CanisLucidus

This was the third of five lucid dreams from last night/this morning.

Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid

Lucid #108: The Torrent

I'm watching one of the Star Wars films with some friends. We're sitting on the floor of some strange classroom and even though I hate to miss any of the movie, I have to pee so badly that I can't wait. I get up and enter some public restroom, approach the urinal, and start going.

While I'm doing this, some guy comes in to use one of the stalls. The bathroom has this horrible design where there's a mirror on the wall which is angled so that I can see straight into the stall. The guy sits down on the toilet and commences his business without bothering to close the door. It's an awful sight. "Shut the door!" I wail. He obediently slams the door shut.

Meanwhile, I keep peeing and peeing. The guy in the stall finally finishes his business, washes his hands, and leaves... yet I'm still going. Something's not right about this, and I realize that this is a dream. I still need to pee just as badly as when I first arrived, and there seems to be no stopping things. I'm vaguely worried that I'm wetting the bed but I figure that whatever is happening to my waking body, the die has been cast. Time to get out and enjoy this LD.

I step away from the urinal, still peeing all over the place, and exit the restroom. I emerge in a huge store that looks like a Walmart. I survey my surroundings, and every time I look in a direction, I start peeing all over the floor that's in my field of view. Most of the DCs in the store ignore this, but a few run away. Fortunately, after a few seconds, the urine seems to just disappear.

There's a huge mirror covering one wall next to a crudely-constructed wooden stage. I check how I look -- exactly like myself, except I'm pissing all over the place. I find the actual sight of myself doing this totally revolting and devote some dream control effort to making it stop. Soon it does, and all is forgiven (or forgotten.)

I hit a quick double-biceps pose in the mirror, and it occurs to me that the Advanced Task of the Month is to get naked in front of a crowd. I leap onto the stage and all of the DCs in the store turn to look at what I'm up to. I grab my shirt by the back of the collar with both hands and rip the shirt off of my body. It looks like I'm just in jeans and socks now. (No idea where my shoes went -- did I go into the men's room in just socks? Gross!) With one quick downward move, I simultaneously pants myself and pull off the socks, now stark naked.

I feel strangely relaxed and confident about all of this and throw in a few little stripper-style dance moves. Scanning the crowd, I notice that every audience member is now female. I'm not sure whether that's strictly a trick of the menthol or just something that somehow makes me feel more comfortable but I take note of it. With the task satisfied, I jump off the stage, imagining myself clothed once again.

I can't remember what else I'd wanted to do so I have a bit of fun wrecking displays in the store -- I force-push some chairs into a shelf of goods, levitate a bunch of stuff in the air, and generally act like a bad kid. As I'm looking around for my next bit of mischief, an attractive, dark-haired woman in her late 20s approaches me. She's wearing a close-fitting, dark blue dress. Menthol? I think.

"Hi," she says. "What were you hoping I was going to say to you?"

The truth: "I was sort of hoping that you were looking for sex." In spite of myself, I feel pretty embarrassed when I say this.

"There's an honest answer! But don't you think that you ought to get to know me first? Here, sit down," she says, gesturing at a long row of wooden chairs. "I'm Gina."

I sit down with her and she pulls out a notebook that looks exactly like my written dream journal. "What's that notebook?" I ask.

"Dream journal!" she answers cheerfully. "You've got to write everything down if you want to remember it."

She looks like she's about to ask me something when a guy sits down in the chair next to her. He's a black guy, about 30, a touch pudgy. Gina leans back to let him speak, looking a little impatient. This new guy speaks to me in a lecturing tone, saying, "Do you think you can just close every door that you open?" I'm confused by what he's saying and as I'm preparing to ask him what he means, I wake up.